


Poem About Myself

by Ha_Haha_Hahahaha



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Talent Development AU, Unrequited Love, and kind of a tsundere, komaeda's a huge dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 20:26:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14120121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ha_Haha_Hahahaha/pseuds/Ha_Haha_Hahahaha
Summary: Hinata has unfortunately been given the task of writing simple poetry for a homework assignment. Komaeda, against what he believes to be his better judgement, takes an interest in the idea.





	Poem About Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus Christ, I haven't uploaded two fics, let alone two chapters of one fic, within the span of a few weeks since like, I don't know, since I was 13! I can't believe Komahina is going to make me productive. It's about time, honestly, but better late than never, right? 
> 
> Anyway, Hinata's shit at writing poetry. Komaeda's supposed to be better, but honestly, I'M shit at writing poetry, so he still comes of as terrible. I mean, it's fine, given I can't stand poetry in general, but alas, I'm no DDLC character.

“Oh, Hinata-kun, you look like you’re in need of some assistance.” 

 

Hinata’s eyes trailed up the figure towering over him, locking on to his eyes. He had to stop himself from sighing or cursing under his breath as he was  _ definitely _ not in the mood to have a conversation with anyone, let alone with Komaeda.

 

“No, Komaeda, I’m fine,” he said. He crumpled up the piece of paper he was writing on and dropped it on to his lap along with his pen. “It was just my homework. Shouldn’t you be at one of your class parties?” 

 

“I was just thinking I needed a bit of fresh air,” Komaeda told him. He was gripping a can of soda loosely around his fingertips. Nonchalantly, he brought it up to his mouth, taking a sip. “Isn’t your class having a celebration as well?” 

 

“You could probably already figure out the answer to that question.” 

 

Komaeda shrugged before sitting down cross-legged on the grass himself. “I guess not. Well, I don’t see the purpose of having a party for the reserve course students anyway, other than maybe lightening the mood.” 

 

Hinata scoffed.  _ Here we go again _ . “What is  _ that _ supposed to mean?” 

 

“Nothing. It’s just that whenever I pass by one of your classmates, they always appear...morose. I’d say they should be happier. It doesn’t help the morale of Hope’s Peak at all! Even I would have been glad to be in their position...maybe they could fix the lighting in your building. It always looks so dim through the windows.” 

 

Komaeda wasn’t wrong. The reserve course building looked more like a juvenile detention center than a school from the outside and the inside. Noon felt more like 8 o’clock at night in there. “Not that you’d agree with me, but I wouldn’t mind a little bit of fun as opposed to the mounds of homework they give us each day.” He gestured to the items in his lap, probably of no use to him anymore. 

 

“Ah, so that’s where it went…” 

 

“Where  _ what _ went?” Komaeda responded to him with a sheepish smile. “Just spit it out, Komaeda!” 

 

“Well, Yukizome-sensei told us that unneeded units- or, curriculum they decide to take out- get funneled through to other sectors of the school...now I know where.” 

 

“Are you kidding me?” Hinata put his head in his hands, trying to conceal his exasperated expression from Komaeda. “All these nonstop hours of constant work are because the talented kids don’t actually have to do half of their goddamn work each year?” 

 

“It’s only terrible if you make it out to be,” Komaeda said, “The work you do allows the Super High School Levels to focus their efforts on fostering their talents. If trivial assignments got in their way, they wouldn’t be able to reach their full potential! Doesn’t that make you feel grateful?” 

 

Komaeda meant to sound encouraging, but the words just bit at Hinata’s neck like annoying little mosquitoes. “Yeah, some potential they’re reaching by sitting around and jacking off in their rooms. At least the work would maybe give them some hardship.” Hinata then stood up, brushing a few blades of grass from his pant leg. Komaeda said nothing in return, pinching the inside of his cheek with his teeth as he considered what Hinata just said. “Whatever. It’s getting dark, so I’m going to get back to my room. Later, Komaeda.” 

 

“Bye,” Komaeda muttered, sounding more like a grunt than anything else. He heard Hinata’s footsteps on the concrete trail off behind him. “He’ll never learn, will he?” he said to himself. Lethargically, he stretched his legs out, accidentally kicking the ball of paper Hinata had left on the ground. 

 

“Ah.” Komaeda picked it up between his thumb and his middle finger, inspecting it for a moment. “Hinata-kun, you forgot-!” He turned around. Hinata was nowhere to be seen. He shrugged it off. He could easily just give it back to him tomorrow morning, but by the looks of it, Hinata wouldn’t be interested in having it. He’d probably take the pen, however, so Komaeda placed it in his pocket. The only thing that Komaeda could do with the paper was throw it out. 

 

Or read it. 

 

Suddenly feeling somewhat scandalized, Komaeda put the paper in his pocket as well, and scampered off to his room. 

 

* * *

 

Komaeda sat at his desk, the crumpled ball of paper (which had gotten even more crumpled in his pocket) placed before him. His attempts to counter the waves of curiosity crashing over him were futile. 

 

_ I’d just like to know what they could have been teaching us right now. T-That’s all, right? _

 

Komaeda took extra comfort in the fact that this was just an unfinished homework assignment, and not like a personal diary or anything. Therefore, he wasn’t invading Hinata’s privacy or anything like that...was he? 

 

Tentatively, he reached out, slowly unfolding the edges of the paper until it assumed a rectangular shape- well, sort of. The center still sort of folded upwards, and gray ink smears were splotched over some of the words. Despite all of the crinkles, however, Komaeda was able to decipher the letters. On the top of the paper, “Poem About Myself” was written. Hinata’s name was scribbled above it in the top right corner, as if he had forgotten to put it on the header at first. 

 

_ Oh, so that’s what they’re making the reserve course students write.  _ Komaeda was somewhat bemused at what the point of the assignment was. He couldn’t imagine any of the reserve students actually writing anything interesting about themselves, let alone constructing a decent poem. That sort of beauty and captivation was relegated to the minds of the Super High School Levels only. 

 

Nevertheless, a sting of interest still rang through his mind. He didn’t know most of the reserve students, but he knew Hinata, and an odd spark flared through him whenever his other classmates brought him up, or whenever he overheard some girls gushing about him, or whenever Hinata would walk up to him himself, starting a conversation as if there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. 

 

Komaeda’s eyes drifted lower. Hinata’s handwriting wasn’t very neat, but it was readable, and much less blocky than his. The poem was double-spaced anyway, and it wasn’t as if he had gotten very far. 

 

_ I’m Hinata Hajime _

 

_ My hair sticks up like little spikes _

 

_ Some people say it fits my personality _

 

_ It’s what makes me stand out _

 

_ Because other people don’t have spiked hair like I d-  _

 

That was the end of it. Komaeda blinked, almost shocked at how strikingly bad it was. A wheezy laugh escaped his lips as he leaned back in his chair, holding the paper above his head. “Ah, truly the work expected of a reserve course student.” 

 

Komaeda let go of the paper, letting it whisk back and forth in the air a few times before it fell in his face, reclined back so that he was facing the ceiling. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Hinata sitting on the grass, brow furrowed, his tongue flicking out against the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, the little spikes he had written about sticking up like they had a mind of their own. Komaeda breathed a sigh of endearment, feeling his insides starting to warm, from the pit of his stomach all the way up to his forehead.  _ Hinata-kun...what a funny person he is. He’s so...he’s so...so… _

 

Komaeda bit his own lip. 

 

“Ha, never mind that,” he whispered to himself, sweeping the paper off his face and placing it back on the desk. He wasn’t sure if waiting until the next day to throw it out would constitute as weird or not. 

 

* * *

 

 

By the next morning, Hinata had a little pile in his trashcan of about 15 different crumpled balls of paper. 

 

“Agh!” He threw his hands over his head melodramatically. “I can’t do this shit. I really can’t.” Hinata wasn’t very stubborn about the fact that he had little to no creative ability, and it only made matters worse that he was now writing with a crayon of all things because he didn’t have his pen with him. 

 

_ Where could I have put that thing? It must be somewhere... _ And then the realization dawned on him that he had left it in the courtyard, dropped it, and never decided to pick it back up. It might as well have been trampled over at this point. Of course, the only person who would know for sure would be Komaeda. 

 

He reached over for his phone with a huff. He didn’t really feel like calling Komaeda, but since he didn’t have a cell phone, only the one Hope’s Peak had installed in his room, it’s not like he had any other choice unless he wanted to walk all across the campus to the main course dorms, and he was uncertain whether he’d actually be let in or not. 

 

The phone didn’t even have to ring once for Komaeda to pick up on his end. 

 

“Hello? Who is it? This is odd. I never get phone calls aside from my doctor. Ah, I hope you’re not a scammer or anything…” 

 

Hinata had to chuckle. “No, I’m not a scammer. It’s just me, Hinata.” 

 

“Oh, Hinata-kun! I’m guessing you’re calling about the pen...right?” 

 

“Well, yeah- wait, how did you get that so quickly? Whatever, I guess I don’t have to ask whether you have it or not.” 

 

“I do! I swear, you should really have some spares with you. I’d think pencils would be the most practical regardless. It’s not good to be so disorganized. Are all reserve course students like this?” 

 

“I don’t know, Komaeda. You transfer out of the main course and tell me after a week or so. Can you just meet me in the courtyard again around lunch time?” 

 

“Can do, Hinata-kun.”

 

* * *

 

Komaeda held his palm flat out in front of him, the pen resting on it. Hinata reached out to grab it, only for Komaeda to clasp his fingers around it. When he was met with a cold stare, he relinquished the object yet again. He couldn’t help but giggle as Hinata begrudgingly swiped it away from him and put it in his pocket. 

 

“Thanks, I guess.” 

 

“Anytime,” Komaeda said with a wave. Hinata had already turned around again before a thought flitted into Komaeda’s head. It was more like an impulse than anything else, however. “Have fun with your poetry.” 

 

Hinata’s head whipped around. “W-Wait, how did you know about that?” 

 

Well, it looked like the cat was out of the bag. “Ahaha...that’s a good question, Hinata-kun. You see, I had  _ also _ taken that crumpled piece of paper you had left on the ground, but I figured you wouldn’t want that one back.” 

 

Hinata dragged his hand down his face, eyelids crinkled shut. “Oh great, you read it, didn’t you? Let me guess, ‘It’s totally like a reserve student to be so bad at writing!’” 

 

Komaeda stayed silent, ducking his head down slightly. He wasn’t going to say it, but a pang of guilt rippled through the tissue of his heart. A bit of pity was mixed in there as well. 

 

Hinata sighed. “Yeah, I know it sucks. Trust me, I’ve written probably 20 more drafts of that thing, and some of them turned out  _ worse _ . I might as well accept a failing grade at this point.” He paused for a moment, restraining himself from going on into a full-blown tirade. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. You’re not the one who has to deal with this kind of stuff. See you around.” 

 

Hinata only made it a few steps until he felt cold, slender fingers wrapped around his wrist. He looked over his shoulder. Komaeda was awkwardly reaching forward, his gaze cast off to the side. He didn’t sport the expression of someone who was certain of their actions. 

 

“Komaeda…?” 

 

Komaeda finally got the courage to turn his face toward him, his nose a shade pinker than the rest of his face. Another beat passed before he was able to open his mouth. “Would you like some help with your assignment?” 

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe I’m helping out a mere reserve course student...this is such an odd situation for me to be in! I wonder, would it be good luck, or bad luck? What do you think, Hinata-kun?” 

 

Hinata’s head slumped on the library table. He wasn’t quite sure what he was in for. “Neither, because you offered to help with your own damn free will. Now, I don’t know how good of a writer you are, but I’ll take all the help I can get.” 

 

Komaeda was sitting beside him, a binder as well as some writing utensils in front of him. “Well, my abilities are nothing to be proud of. I could never write a proper novel, let alone a story with any coherency, depth, tension, decent characterization, or entertainment value, but I suppose I’ve always had somewhat of a creative side.” 

 

Hinata clicked his tongue.  _ Calling yourself a little creative is an understatement.  _ “You probably know what this assignment is about already, right? I have to write a poem about myself. How do I do that?” 

 

Komaeda picked up a pencil, tapping it on his chin a few times. “Consider a few select qualities about yourself, as well as your experiences in life. If you have that in order, all that’s left is to add imagery to it. In the poem you had left behind, you had written about your hair. How could you express that in a descriptive way?” 

 

“My hair is spiked like the tips of a...I don’t know, a hedgehog? This is dumb.”

 

“Make a note of it!” 

 

Hinata groaned, taking a piece of paper from the binder and pulling out the pen that had been in his pocket. He punctuated a bullet point and then scribbled “hair: hedgehog” next to it. “What’s next?” 

 

“Connect it to something meaningful. Like, let’s say, something about yourself, or something that had happened in the past.” 

 

“I guess I’ve been kind of on edge lately...I can say something about that.” He drew a short arrow next to the bullet and wrote it down. 

 

“Good! See, you’re getting the hang of it, Hinata-kun! Onto the next point!” 

 

“Well, I am...um, I like kusamochi, if that counts?” 

 

“Hmm, maybe I spoke too soon.”

 

“Dammit, Komaeda. You didn’t offer to discourage me.” 

 

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to come off so rude. But let’s put anything involving snacks on the back burner for now. What was your favorite thing to do as a child?” 

 

Hinata thought about that question for an extensive moment. Obviously, he had to have been interested in something, or else he might as well have been an amoeba until he hit puberty- hell, even after puberty, but all he could do was crinkle his brow as nothing came to mind. “I...I don’t know.” 

 

“Huh? Weren’t you in any club activities?” 

 

“I mean, I  _ was _ , I just wasn’t really interested in anything specific...I read sometimes, but it was usually just what everyone else was reading...all I remember doing is running around on the playground a lot and watching TV.” 

 

The line of Komaeda’s lips tugged downward. “Gee, Hinata-kun, I find that somewhat sad.” 

 

“Of course it’s sad. I’m sorry that my past doesn’t lend itself very well to comparisons to broken branches floating down a river or whatever, but that’s just that. At this rate, the only thing I have to talk about is every single one of my physical features. You think gold could represent anything?” He pointed the back of his pen to one of his eyes for emphasis. 

 

Komaeda huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Let’s try something different then...what’s something you really want in life? Is there anything you truly admire?” 

 

“...yeah, there is.” 

 

“And what would that be?” 

 

“It’s...no, I shouldn’t tell you. You probably wouldn’t get it anyway.” 

 

“I wouldn’t understand it? Hinata-kun, I feel like you’ve misunderstood me. I think we’re quite similar, or...at least that’s the sense I get.”

 

“Maybe in another universe,” Hinata grumbled. 

 

Komaeda made a noise in discontent. He smoothed his tongue over his chapped bottom lip, tracing over the lines of peeling skin. “Regardless of how you feel, I still don’t believe it would hurt.” 

 

Hinata looked over at Komaeda, noticing the melancholy droop of his eyes. He fiddled with his hands for a few seconds, trying to shake the image from his mind to no avail. “Alright, I’ll tell you.” 

 

Komaeda perked up. “Yes?” 

 

“I really…,” Hinata started, a breath clearly building up in his chest. “I really...wish I was part of the main course. I mean, I wish I had an actual talent.” 

 

Not an inch of surprise spread across Komaeda’s face. “Well, that was anticlimactic.” 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

“Well, it’s already clear from how you associate with the main course that you have the hopeless desire to be a part of them...I was expecting something a lot more dramatic. I had recommended that you keep certain boundaries in mind with my classmates in the past, even, though you’ve always shrugged them off.” 

 

“Yeah, I figured it was going to be something like that,” Hinata said, “I’m not friends with your classmates because of some ulterior motive, okay? I thought you said you’d be able to understand how I feel.” 

 

“It seems obvious that we’re on two different wavelengths on most things, but I swear, Hinata-kun, I do understand your wish.” 

 

“You...do?” 

 

“Yes, I can even say that I  _ empathize _ with it.” 

 

“Oh.” Hinata sounded surprised. Curious even. “Okay. Is...that all you have to say?” Komaeda nodded. “W-Why...uh...never mind. I don’t really want to work on this anymore.” Hinata stood up from his chair, picking up the barely-used piece of paper. 

 

“Hinata-kun, wait for just a minute-” 

 

“Sorry, Komaeda. I’ll figure it out by myself. You at least tried to help...t-thanks.” 

 

Hinata hurried out of the library. Komaeda heard the door swing and clammer shut. Sitting in silence, he noticed that he still had a few pieces of paper to spare.

 

* * *

 

Komaeda was back in his dorm room, a blank piece of lined paper in front of him. He stared at it intently, as if it already contained a thousand words. Questions like “What am I trying to do?” and “Will this beneficial in the slightest?” pounded in his head, causing a long, subtle pain. 

 

Out of all the people he knew, all of the wonderfully talented people in his class who were bound to change the world someday, he had chosen to write a poem about Hinata Hajime, the unremarkable, plain reserve course student. 

 

_ I’m Hinata Hajime _

 

Komaeda considered all the unique characteristics Hinata had. Upon first impressions, he had just seemed like the average teenage boy, with no special traits to his personality to speak of, and if you had asked Komaeda directly, he’d still hold that to be true, but…

 

_ My stubborness makes up for my lack of talent _

 

_ I stand defiantly in front of the cave of the unknown, even when it spits back at me _

 

Komaeda’s hand shook, loosening the grip he had on the pencil. That was true, right? He wasn’t just making stuff up on the fly? 

 

_ My face shows an open book, a hardcover with silky pages _

 

_ The words inscribed are blunt and firm, yet laced with warmth and kindness _

 

_ People gravitate toward me naturally like moths to a flame  _

 

_ Even though I know I shouldn’t, I allow even the most elite to attach themselves to me _

 

_ The charm that cascades through the breath of my words enunciates my bright smile as I _

 

_ Reach down and pull a limp figure up to my broad chest and-  _

 

Komaeda quickly erased the last two lines, muttering unintelligibly to himself. His cheeks grew hot, his hairline starting to feel damp with sweat. 

 

_ I’m Hinata Hajime, the stupid, boring, untalented man who doesn’t know his own place. _

 

Komaeda stared down at the paper again. His lip started to quiver. With a pout on his face. He spastically crumpled up the ball of paper, and threw it in the trash. He put his head down on the desk in defeat. 

 

“Who cares...about a reserve course student…?”

 

* * *

 

 

“So, Hinata-kun, how did the assignment go?” Komaeda asked curiously. “Were you able to finish it on time?” 

 

Hinata yawned as he nodded, as most students do after class on a cool Monday afternoon. “I went in for help early this morning. The teacher wasn’t happy about it, but she gave me a hand anyway.” 

 

Komaeda looked down at his feet, rocking back and forth from toe to heel. “...did you write about anything different this time?”

 

“Kind of? It was still basically what I had written before, but...better. It was pretty generic. I didn’t really say anything positive about myself at all.” 

 

Komaeda gulped. “Is that...is that so?” 

 

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

 

Komaeda felt his fingers jolt with tiny imaginary sparks of electricity. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! Hope you guys enjoyed this fic. I enjoyed writing it, and am quite proud of it, albeit not as proud as I was with the postgame one. I might go back to postgame Komahina, actually. Or Island Mode. Or some random ass AU. Idk, I feel like all those years of going like "weh, weh there are barely any komahina fanfics that line up with what i want!" have finally paid off. I'm not a lazy ass bitch anymore. 
> 
> Also, I'd like to dedicate this fic as a birthday present to myself, since I'm turning 17 tomorrow, and I'm going to be busy with a friend so I couldn't work on it then. *puts on party hat*


End file.
